


Oxymoron

by Katflap (Batman_in_Lingerie)



Series: Devils [6]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: BDSM, Clark and Bruce are gremlins, Deception, Derogatory Language, Dirty Talk, Dom Bruce Wayne, Dubious Consent, Foot Fetish, M/M, Painful Sex, Painplay, Putting things on dicks that should not be put on dicks, Rough Sex, S&M, Sleep Groping, Somnophilia, Sub Clark Kent, Swearing, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:35:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25879783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batman_in_Lingerie/pseuds/Katflap
Summary: Clark thought he understood what he liked in bed.Turns out he  didn't.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Series: Devils [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1476668
Comments: 13
Kudos: 106





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As I have often stated, my writing comes in two modes. Torrential floods, or droughts. I am either super inspired and churn out something in no time, or I don't write for months. This fic is evidence of the former as I wrote it in a day. It is finished, but I will post chapter 2 tomorrow ;) 
> 
> I like my trash husbands series and the fic I had intended to post next in the series has been sitting half done for a while now, but I just haven't had the motivation to finish it. So instead I wrote a whole ass different fic with them, and I have no regrets.
> 
> Take heed of the tags (some are in reference to chapter 2), you have been warned. Enjoy!

_“Fucking take it, you slut.”_

In the video, a man is pushed down onto the mattress, and the two beside him on the bed descend with the tenacity and enthusiasm of vultures. The one who pushed him stays upright for a moment, watching the scene and a playful smile stretches across his face.

Clark takes a moment to look to Bruce beside him. He’s still asleep, and even if he did wake up, it wasn’t like there was much to see. Clark had the covers surreptitiously covering his crotch, and the subsequent movements of his hand on said area of his body as a result. His head phones were in, and even with them, he had the volume turned down to the point that anyone without super hearing would have trouble making it out, and beyond that he was keeping his face as neutral as possible.

Bruce wasn’t oblivious to his masterbating. He brought it up; frequently. If anything it was a common conversation starter for them now. If Clark spent more than a certain length of time in the shower, Bruce's face would hold that tell tale smirk when he emerged from the shower, and Clark would see Bruce holding his own phone, watching something, and Clark knew exactly what it was.

Even though Bruce filmed his most intimate moments, and watched them for his own pleasure, Clark didn't mind. At first it was a mental hurdle he had to jump over, but after he did, he got used to it fairly quickly. It added to their already fertile sex life, and allowed Bruce to still be involved in things that technically didn’t involve him beyond being the image in Clark’s brain. 

And Clark himself now got to reap the benefits of Bruce’s obsession. He didn’t go onto the computer frequently, but when the mood struck him, he’d check the folders of himself and pour through Bruce's notes and thoughts on everything. He wouldn’t do much with the information, but he supposed read through it all for the same reason Bruce documented this stuff in the first place. He wanted to learn more about what made Bruce tick. As Bruce really was an enigma when it came to his turn on's.

Clark knew the obvious ones, but sometimes videos would be rated high and when Clark reviewed them he couldn’t figure out just _why_ Bruce coveted above any of the other ones. Of course, Clark could ask him why, but it felt like he’d be admitting defeat if he did, so he was left to ponder and think more about his enigmatic fiance and his many many layers. 

Besides, there were other benefits to considering along with seeing Bruce’s thoughts on their sex life. The videos themselves also had the unintended bonus of telling Clark where all the cameras in the Manor actually were. Surprisingly, there weren’t an ungodly amount, with most rooms only having one or two at most. The bedroom for instance had two. There was one near the dresser embedded in the wall, getting the side angle of the bed, and one in the ceiling above the bed, to catch anything else.

Clark learnt where they were, and from that quickly found that with the correct placement of his blanket and hands, you couldn't tell Clark was up to anything unusual. Not once did these particular ‘private moments’ end up in the files. They were most likely quickly scanned through by Bruce, and set aside as nothing more than Clark watching something on his phone. Never to be observed again.

He supposed he did it to get one up on Bruce, to show him that his system wasn’t infallible, and Clark could work his way around the many cameras in the house and jerk off without Bruce being able to add it to his spreadsheet (which, he did have and frequently updated. Clark would have been more annoyed had he not actually found it interesting to see how many times he jerked off the previous year. It was 1012, with an average of 2.7.)

  
And besides, Clark couldn’t think of anything more arousing than getting one up over Bruce.

So that's how it began, his late night video viewings, and this night should have gone like ones before it, had Clark not moved his foot three inches to the right.

Bruce was a light sleeper. He had to be in a way, and whilst touching him whilst he slept didn’t rocket him awake, it did often cause him to stir, and Clark was well aware that one of two things would now happen; one, Bruce would realise it was just Clark, and fall back asleep with no issue. Or, two; he’d think something was amiss and investigate further. 

Clark was never a lucky person, so he really should have expected Bruce to do the latter on this particular night, but when he saw Bruce's head lift and turn towards him, his eyes half shut with sleep, Clark couldn’t help but grimace. “What are you doing?” Came Bruce's slurred question, he was half squinting at the phone in Clark’s hands, and thankfully Clark had the sense to already close what he was watching.

  
  
“I couldn’t sleep, so I was just watching some videos on Youtube.” Clark said easily. He had practiced the lie so much, that even as he said it he was impressed by his own conviction.

Bruce however was either not buying it, or his sleep addled mind was making his reaction time going down the toilet. He just stared at Clark’s face, blinking slowly. “Youtube videos?”

  
“Yeah, like this one is just a dude making soap.” Clark pulled up the video he had opened on another tab, and showed it to Bruce. “It helps me sleep.” 

“Oh.” Bruce said, the suspicious glint that was in his eyes leaving. His head fell back against the pillow with a thud and he turned away, burrowing into the blankets. “Are you sleepy yet?” He half mumbled.

  
Clark looked down at the blankets, to where his erection was currently lying in wait. “Uh, yeah.” 

  
“Then cuddle me.” Bruce said, smooshing his face further into the pillow. “You woke me up, it’s only fair.”

“Right.” Clark said flatly.

Of course Bruce knew. He was a detective. He was just fucking with him, and Clark had no choice but to go along with it or admit what he was doing. Asshole. 

Clark lay down, pulling his head phones out and setting his phone on the nightstand. He came in close to Bruce, placing an arm around his chest and laying his head close to him. 

Bruce wiggled a bit more, before letting out a sharp sign. “What is this?”

Clark bit his lip. “What do you mean?” 

“This half assed cuddle. You're leaning away from me.” 

“No, i'm not.'' Clark said quickly.

  
“Then come in close to me, you ass.” Bruce brought one of his hands underneath the blanket, and tried to blindly reach for Clark’s hips. When his fingers found his thigh, Clark jolted.

  
“Okay, okay. Stop trying to grope me, you prick.” Clark turned himself into the mattress, until Bruce's wandering hand retreated. Once it was clear Bruce's hands were back by his face, Clark let out a sigh before scooting himself in closer.

His erection practically slid into the gap between Bruce's cheeks, and as Clark tried to prevent the moan as a result, he let out a sharp exhale instead. He waited for Bruce to say anything, after all, this was his plan from the outset, surely. To embarrass Clark until he had no choice to admit what he was doing.

But he didn't.

He just lay there.

Clark swallowed, and as the minutes ticked by his erection grew even more confused. It was so close to its usual home away from home, and yet was just sitting outside of it as though waiting to be let in. Eventually Clark couldn’t take it anymore, and slowly brought his hips back, before pushing forward once more and feeling the slide of Bruce's thighs on either side of his cock. 

But still, Bruce didn't move. He must have been awake, Clark thought. He must be. Clark listened for his heartbeat, and only heard the slow beating associated with sleep. A quick half glance at his face showed his eyes were closed, his mouth half parted as he let out soft breaths.

Was he actually asleep? He supposed it was possible. Bruce was a light sleeper, but as a result of his nightly habits and how he often needed to sleep where and whenever he could, he could also fall asleep at the drop of a hat. Maybe he fell asleep before Clark’s cock had made its appearance known. 

Or more likely he was fucking with him.

Clark wanted to ask, to find out a definite answer, but he figured if it was the latter, Bruce would take greater enjoyment in pointing out Clark's own shortcomings himself, without Clark prompting him. _‘You really thought I was asleep? You are such an idiot.’_

Clark's cock twitched, and despite knowing it wasn’t the smartest thing to do, he pulled himself back once more before sliding forward. The friction wasn’t much; with Bruce’s tights being lax, but perhaps it was due to the illicitness of it all, that Clark found his erection was far beyond wilting. It was here to stay unless Clark did something about it.

Technically, he was doing something about it. He pulled back once more. Of course he was currently setting up camp in a great big fat grey zone in terms of consent. He and Bruce had done it in every which way that was possible, but somehow the idea that Bruce really was asleep and had no idea Clark was doing this tickled him deep in his stomach, and the feeling wasn’t a bad one. Not even close.

Of course that was a problem for future Clark to deal with, as present Clark had a bigger issue on his hands.

Despite the thrusting, it wasn’t enough. He could increase the frequency of thrusts he supposed, but that could wake Bruce. He could try and use his hand to give himself some added relief, but again, it seemed like anything beyond what he was doing at present could lead to the very real possibility of ending this before he could finish.

_‘Please, like i’d let you finish. You pig.’_

‘Bruce?’

_‘Are you really surprised I’m in your head? God, you are dumber than I thought.’_

Clark looked at the side of Bruce’s face, at where his eyelashes lay. _‘Are you reading my mind right now?’_

_‘I’m asleep you gargantuan moron, and you are taking advantage of my supple body like the irredeemable shit head you are. Of course I’m not reading your mind.’_

“No.” Clark whispered, his hips moving of their own accord. “I'm not-”

  
  
_‘Not a shit head? A moron? I could go on, but I hate to break it to you, you are all of them, ad infinitum.’_

“Fuck.” Clark murmured as his cock strained. “Please.”

  
  
_‘Please what? You want me to praise you for doing this to me? God, you disgust me.’_

“Oh, shit-” Clark let out, as though it were ripped from him. He came, and felt the slick wetness cover Bruce’ thighs as he slid himself out. 

That was something he didn’t consider. Should he try and clear the crime scene or should he just lay and wait for Bruce to play his hand?

In the end he chose the latter, tucking himself back into his boxers, and laying back his eyes trained up at the ceiling. As the afterglow dissipated, the disgust he felt from his own actions weighed heavy on his mind. He wondered what tomorrow would bring, what Bruce would stay, and he knew the sun was already beginning to rise by the time he finally fell asleep. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp here it is! I hope you all enjoy, and again, heed the tags as this is where a bulk of them are lurking. ;)

Clark didn’t know what to expect.

That's a lie, he did. Perhaps it's more accurate to say that what he expected Bruce to do and what Bruce actually did were two separate realms that never overlapped.

Come morning, he lay still as Bruce woke.

Clark expected a hand on him, a sharp voice to ask why his thighs were stuck together, but neither happened. Bruce simply got up and went to shower, like he did every morning.

At breakfast, they ate in amicable silence, punctuated with the occasional bout of small talk.

That night when Clark went to check the folders, there was no clip of him in Bruce's collection.

Had he really gotten away with it? It wasn't lost on him that Bruce was very good at lulling Clark into a false sense of security and this this was another example of that. The idea that this would all culminate in Bruce revealing his master plan was beginning to make itself known in Clark's mind.

The problem was, that the likelihood that that was the case, was low. After all, Clark had made it apparent that any 'funny business' whatsoever from Bruce over his little four hour stint tied up would result in immediate punishment.

Which meant, that Bruce might not actually be fucking with him at all, for fear of what Clark had in store for him should he even try. And somehow, that idea was worse than the former.

_‘So,’_ Clark’s penis provided conversationally, _‘lemme get this straight. You told him not to fuck with you, but all you want now is for him to fuck with you? Wow. You're so smart, I'm glad I'm your penis and not someone else's.’_

  
“Fuck, i’m an idiot.” Clark muttered as he stared into his coffee.

  
  
“I mean, I know that, but why are you saying it to your coffee?”

  
  
Clark jolted up as Bruce walked into the kitchen. Bruce himself barely regarded him, going over to the coffee pot and pouring himself a mug without another glance. 

“Uh, no reason.” Clark said quickly.

  
“Really.” Bruce said, turning back to face him. He brought his coffee cup to his lips and held it there. “Are you okay?”

  
  
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Clark said, far too quickly.

Bruce's eyes narrowed. “You've been very weird today. For one, you didn’t jerk off in the shower this morning.”

  
  
Clark made a face. “I’m allowed to not jerk off, aren't I? I mean, you always sass me about it. I figured you’d be happy.” 

  
Clark was aware he was currently traversing a minefield that only Bruce had a map for. His eyes narrowed by the barest margins as he regarded Clark. “I suppose.” He said simply, and instead of taking the bait, Bruce’s head tilted to the side. “Clark, is there something you want to tell me?”

_‘He knows! He fucking knows! He wants you to admit it. This is his game, the sneaky sexy bastard.’_

Clark chanced a look up at those steely eyes and swallowed. “No, I'm good.” 

There was a moment of silence as Bruce eyed him. Then he raised his brows and took another sip of his coffee. “If you say so.” He said with a shrug as he left the room once more.

Bruce hadn’t even fully left the room before Clark’s head collided with the counter top. He let out a groan as he sat and wallowed, and before long he realised he needed to think about this properly before it swallowed him entirely.

He felt stuck. Obviously, he could 'unstick' himself by just talking to Bruce, but somehow he felt that was falling for his trap, which he couldn't deny a part of him wanted to step in, but his pride refused to allow. He could win this, somehow, he just needed time to think about how, so that night instead of kissing Bruce and allowing the usual fucking to follow, he turned from him as soon as the lights were off and buried himself into the blankets. 

The following morning, he still didn’t jerk off in the shower either. He didn’t know why, but he just wasn’t horny. 

Was it guilt? 

It was probably guilt. 

Work that day didn’t help matters as he sat at his desk, with nothing much to do other than to wallow in said guilt. 

Clark realised there were two options here. One, Bruce was unaware of what Clark had done, and was confused as to why Clark was being so cold to him, or two, he knew everything and was waiting for Clark to admit what he had done himself. Either option resulted in heaping portions of guilt on Clark’s soul, and by the time he got home, he knew he had to do something about it.

Of course, he should have known that Bruce was going to do something about it as well.

“Please, Clark. _Please_ .”

  
  
Clark brought his hand back and slapped it flat against Bruce's ass. Bruce swayed at the movement and as the seconds ticked by Clark watched the area began to flood with a flush of red.

  
Clark had to wonder if Bruce was truly aware of how much a demonic mastermind he was. It was remarkable actually, he was able to manipulate a situation in such a way that any sane person would never think anything was amiss, and perhaps, if Clark wasn’t so used to this level of manipulation he would have thought the same. But that wasn’t the case. No, he knew Bruce better than anyone, and as such he knew that this was more than just sex.

It was a test.

Of course Bruce noticed Clark wasn’t his normal self, and considering how Clark was normally horny 24/7, it was quite easy to see how Bruce figured out Clark was out of sorts. However, unlike a normal person. Bruce didn't ask Clark what was wrong, and also unlike a normal person, Clark didn't volunteer the information himself.

So, rather than talk, Bruce went all out tonight. By the time Clark walked in from work, Bruce stood naked in the middle of the room, his hands held high in restraints, his eyes covered in a black velvet mask, and a slick black case filled with toys on the bed beside him.

As Clark took it all in, he could only think of one thing.

_‘You are the devil incarnate.’_

Because he was. It was like offering someone a five star luxury course dinner right after they had thrown up. They'd feel so sick, they couldn’t take a single bite, but the idea of saying no was impossible, leaving them no choice but to sit and deal with the torment.

And that’s exactly what Bruce was doing.

If Clark went through with it, he knew he was playing into Bruce’s hand, and yet, walking away was not an option either, as who in their right mind would walk away from this? Bruce was practically on a silver platter before him, and yet, Clark didn’t want it.

It was as he looked down at his hand, and then down at Bruce’s flush skin that he abruptly realised why this wasn’t doing anything.

Bruce hadn’t _done_ anything.

Sure, the odds were he was mind gaming him big time, but he hadn’t actually _done_ anything concrete that Clark could get mad at him for. He was an asshole in general, but if Clark got an anger induced erection every single time Bruce was an asshole he’d break world records.

He was the asshole tonight. He was the one who used Bruce’s body whilst he slept, and he couldn’t punish Bruce for that.

“Vanilla.” Clark ended up saying flatly as he went for the mask on Bruce’s face and slid it off.

Instead of confusion, or perhaps irritation, Bruce’s expression was carefully blank as he looked at Clark. “You okay?”

  
  
“I can’t do this tonight, is all.” Clark said, reaching up for the handcuffs around Bruce’s wrists and taking them off.

  
  
“You want to talk about it?” Bruce said, and the moment his hands were down they went to Clark’s shoulders. “You’ve never used the safe word before.”

  
“What's there to talk about?” Clark muttered bitterly. “You already know or you wouldn't be doing this.” 

That caused a frown. “Unlike what you seem to think, being a mind reader is not one of my abilities, so you need to use your words you, walking trash bag.”

  
  
_‘Oh, what’s going on here?’_ Clark’s burgeoning erection murmured.

“Look, you need to just-” Clark pushed him back, just enough to give him space as his body flushed with heat. “Just tell me that you know.”

  
  
“Know what?” Bruce ground out. 

  
“You know I fucked you whilst you slept. Just admit it.” Clark shot back.

  
“I wouldn't call rubbing up against my thighs until you climaxed, fucking.” 

“So-” Clark swallowed. “So you did know.”

  
  
“Of course I knew.” Bruce rolled his eyes. “I wake up when you fart Clark, of course I was going to be awake with you rutting against me.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything!”

“What's to say?” Bruce crossed his arms. “Wow babe, that was a great time for me, my favourite part was when I was laying completely still and you breathed in my ear.” 

  
“If you didn’t like it, then why did you let me do it?” Clark asked, his anxiety mounting. “Why didn’t you stop me?”

  
  
“I didn't say I didn't _like_ it.'' Bruce rolled his eyes. “I like it when you do things like to me, shows me you're just as fucked as me.”

  
  
_‘Oh, wow if he keeps talking like this, you’re gonna need to do something about me asap.’_

“That's-” Clark looked down. “True.”

  
  
“Right, so if you want to do more stuff like that, i'm okay with it. When I'm ‘asleep’ and you're horny just, you know-” Bruce gestured down at his groin. “Go nuts.” 

  
  
“But-” Clark began. Was he really going to do this? It was one thing to let one cat out of the bag, but letting the whole damn cattery was another matter altogether. “What if that wasn’t what did it?”

  
  
“What do you mean?”

  
“I-” Clark went to the bed, sitting on the end. “I liked doing that, don't get me wrong. But I couldn't push myself across that... 'final hurdle' without something else. Sure, I could have kept rutting-- and now I know I can be a little more intense as you’re apparently going to pretend your comatose no matter what, I will-- but in that moment, I had to think about something else to get me to finish.”

  
  
“Was it the cumslut video?” Bruce asked, raising a brow. “Which, by the way, I know you were watching. Though the soap video was an excellent cover up, you should know I have access to everything on your phone.”

Clark wasn’t even remotely surprised. “No, it wasn’t that.” 

“Good, because despite what you think, that twink looks nothing like me.” Bruce crossed his arms. “So, what was it? Or is this a game of twenty questions?”

  
  
Clark’s head fell forward, staring at the floor by Bruce’s feet. “Okay, you remember a while back, when we were fighting at HQ?”

  
  
“Which time? The one where you told me my ass looked flat in my new armour, or when you defaced the kitchen like a child?”

  
  
“I like to remember those occasions as ‘the time you asked for my honest opinion on something’ and ‘the time you ate something that wasn't yours’.” Clark shot back, before sighing. “And it was the latter; when we were fighting you said something and it was just-” he still remembers it, it was something that stuck with him the rest of that night and even into the next morning. “You remember what you said as I was carrying you out?” 

Bruce thought for a moment. “You meant when you bumped me? I think i said ‘watch it, shit head.’”

  
  
“No, before that.” Clark said as he looked up and tried to will the redness away from his face. “You said…”

  
  
“Oh.” Bruce nodded. “I said you had a tic tac dick.”

  
  
“Yeah.” Clark murmured. “Yeah you said you’d be lucky to even feel it.”

  
  
“Right.” Bruce muttered. At Clark’s silence he frowned. “And?”

  
Clark huffed. “I don't know why, but I realised I like it when we fight because you say shit like that. You belittle me and call me trash and I realised I…” he bit his lip. “I like it.” 

When he chanced a look up at Bruce, he saw his usual neutral expression and wondered what the mind behind it was thinking. Eventually he got the answer, as he sat down beside Clark. “So that’s what you thought about when you came?”

  
  
“Sort of.” Clark said, bringing his hands together and looking down at them. “It was like, I was hearing your voice saying stuff like that. Saying I was a pig, that I was disgusting for violating you whilst you slept, and that...” Clark swallowed thickly. “ _That's_ what got me off.” 

Another moment of silence, and this time when Clark turned to Bruce his eyes were narrowed. “Well, you were a pig for doing that.”

  
  
“I-” Clark opened his mouth, but Bruce brought his hand to his lips. 

“Sometimes, when we fuck I wonder what i’m doing with you.”

_‘Oh, this is…’_

_‘Don't let him stop.’_

  
  
“You do?” Clark winced.

  
  
“The amount of times i’ve had to fake it because you can barely satisfy me are too many to count. You're terrible in bed, you know that right?”

His expression was so serious, Clark could feel the weight of it as though it were a physical presence. The only problem was that apparently the physical presence was sat on his crotch, rubbing against him.

He was hard, and Bruce noticed as much. “Are you serious right now?” He said with a barely contained smile. “You got hard from _that_?'' He laughed, and in one swift movement he got up and stood before Clark, looking down at him. “You’re worse than I thought, just how fucked up are you?”

Clark looked away, unable to hold his stare any longer. His erection strained. “Bruce, please.”

  
  
“Please?” Bruce raised a brow. “You have some nerve to ask me for anything. You should take whatever I give you and be thankful, you piece of shit.” He brought his foot up and deftly ground it down on Clark’s erection.

  
  
“ _Fuck!_ ” It didn't hurt too badly, but despite being superhuman there were still some things that hurt Clark and a kick in the groin was definitely one of them. Despite this, the pain was mingled with another feeling and it had everything to do with Bruce’s expression as he looked down at him.

  
  
“You are filthy. Is this really turning you on right now?” Bruce bore his foot down, grinding it against Clark.

It was. It was getting so bad Clark was worried at any moment he would soil himself and God knows what Bruce would say to that. He wanted to hear it, though, he wanted to keep hearing Bruce’s voice. “Bruce, i’m going to-”

  
  
“Oh no you’re not.” He said, bringing his foot back and resting it on Clark’s thigh. “If you cum right now i’m never touching you or that micro cock of yours ever again.”

  
  
Clark was certain if Bruce had still been on him, that the press of his foot and those words alone would have toppled him over. Instead he twitched where he sat before falling back onto his elbows, looking up at Bruce. “Please, keep touching me Bruce. Please.”

  
  
“You have to stop talking.” Bruce murmured. “If there is one thing I can’t stand is your voice, you know what you sound like right now?” He brought his foot back up, but lifted it higher, bringing it to Clark’s chest and pushing him back against the bed. _“Oh Bruce, please, i’m a desperate little shit who needs your love. Please please please.”_ His voice was high and reedy as he spoke and Clark bit his lips. “That’s what you sound like. You sound like that every time you open that mouth of yours.”

“What can I do? Tell me what to do and i'll do it.” Clark all but pleaded.

  
  
“First of all, take your clothes off. Your abs are the single part of your body that don’t make me want to puke.” 

Clark did as he was told, unbuttoning his shirt, and once it was open, slipping it off. His pants were another matter entirely, as trying to unzip them and move them down was greeted with a pleasant burst of friction that he couldn't help but let out a quiet moan for.

  
  
He pulled them off and threw them off the side of the bed, and when he looked up at Bruce he saw a harsh sneer. “Did you really moan taking off your pants?'' Bruce crawled onto the bed, holding himself above Clark as he lay back and stared up at him. “You get turned on by anything don't you? Tell me something, Clark. What’s something that any other person would think is normal that makes your little cock hard?” 

Clark opened his mouth, but when he tried to sift through the inordinate amount of options he found he just couldn't pick one and his mouth snapped back closed. 

“Are you ignoring me?” Bruce frowned

“No!” Clark blurted. “I just…. I have so many.”

  
  
“I figured you do.” Bruce said, somewhat sympathetically. “I actually know one. You talk to yourself, you know. Like a creep.” Bruce pushed himself up and made his way to the wardrobe. He pulled open a drawer and pulled out something, and Clark realized what they were.

Socks.

“ _Oh._ ” he said, his eyes going wide.

  
  
“You remember now? I while back you said something about me in socks, and honestly when I heard that I laughed.” Bruce came back to the bed, and unballed them, bringing a foot up to the bed he pulled one sock on then the other. “I thought ‘what person is into socks of all things?' Tights? Sure. Stockings? Of course. But socks? The things I put on my feet to keep my shoes from being soaked with sweat?” He shook his head. “Then again, maybe that is why you like them. I wouldn't be surprised if you were into that filth.” 

Once they were on Bruce put his knees on the bed, and jerked his head forward. “Scoot yourself further up on the bed.”  
  


Clark did as he was told, moving back up into the bed, until his back was against the headboard, then Bruce hopped up onto the bed, standing up on the matress in front of him. Clark's eyes went to the socks, to the black argyle print and swallowed. “You like them? They’re the cheapest shittiest thing I own. Well, aside from you of course.” 

  
Clark’s toes curled and he pushed himself into the mattress. “Bruce, can you…”

  
  
“‘Can I’ what?” Bruce held up his hand to his ear, when no more words came Bruce let out a breath. “Oh, do you want me to touch you? Is that it?”

  
  
“Yes, please.” His cock was so red, it didn't look like it belonged to him anymore. It was something else entirely. Something alien. “I need it.”

  
  
“You don't need it though.” Bruce chided, stepping forward across the duvet. “You don't _need_ to cum, we've been over this. You just do it because you're a filthy little piggy who likes the _‘feeling’_ of it.” He shook his head. “Honestly, that week wasn't enough. I shouldn't let you cum for a year. Keep you corked up so that _tic tac_ of a dick can’t be used.” 

“Please.'' Clark burst out, his hips jutting up. “God, Bruce, I can't take it.”

  
  
“Superman can’t take it? Wow.” He crossed his arms. “You know, I took your punishment for _four_ hours. I spent four hours writhing on a bed unable to cum because my shit head of a fiance was watching football.” 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Bruce.”

  
  
“I don't buy it. For instance you asked me to be sorry about what I did, and I was lying through my teeth. I wasn't sorry for anything, and all I was thinking of was how I could get you back for what you did. Little did I know that this was going to happen. You practically begged for this. You wanted it all along, and I'm just sorry I didn't do it sooner Clark, truly.” 

Bruce brought his foot up and stomped down on Clark, right on his cock and without the small amount of cushioning his pants provided there was nothing to stop the wave of pain from the motion and Clark yelped. Bruce didn't let up the pressure, pressing down further, and squishing Clark’s cock up against and into his stomach.

He twisted his heel and the torsion on his balls set Clark alight. His head was spinning and he could barely see through the tears. “You know, I have a pretty good gauge of my strength and any normal person right now wouldn’t have a cock left to fuck with with the amount of weight i’m putting on yours. I wonder if you can take my full weight.” 

“Wait, no Bruce-”

But already Bruce was positioning his foot and with only a quiet grunt to show his exertion, he brought his other leg up and held himself up on one foot.

If Clark thought the pain was something before it was a whole other level now. Bruce was crushing him, and yet the only thing he could think about was how he wanted to push himself into it, to grind against Bruce's foot despite the unbearable weight and pressure on him. He couldn't help it. As the seconds ticked by with Bruce holding himself perfectly poised above him Clark jerked his hips and even with Bruce's impressive balance he faulted and the other foot came down, and before long he stumbled off Clark entirely. 

“Did you just…” Bruce muttered. “Did you just push me off?”

  
  
“What? No! I was-”

  
  
“You pushed me off, you fuck. How _dare_ you.” Bruce narrowed his eyes, his sneer growing. “You want to fuck my feet so bad, here-”

He fell back onto the bed, and brought his feet up towards Clark. He scooted forward until each foot was on either side of Clark’s cock and slowly brought them together until they were just barely touching him. “Here, go ahead. Fuck them, you have three minutes. And if you can’t cum in three minutes…” Bruce smiled. “Lets just say you're going to be wishing you had.” 

Clark looked down at the feet, and then went to Bruce. When he saw those eyes on him he swallowed thickly. “Bruce-”

  
  
“Just so you know, this clock has already started and you've already wasted ten seconds looking like a dumbass.” 

Clark wasn't going to argue with that, and brought his hips up, but Bruce's feet were _just_ on him and the lack of touch meant he couldn’t do much of anything. Clark brought his hands up to push Bruce's feet closer, but from that movement alone, Bruce used one foot to kick back his hand. “The fuck you think you’re doing? You cum like this or not at all.”

  
  
“Bruce, I can’t, please, I need more.”

  
  
“More? I’m giving you my feet, you shit. You should be thankful I'm even touching you with them.” Bruce slowly brought his foot back and whether he meant to or not, it was now closer to Clark’s cock than it had been before.

Clark wasted no time, thrusting up into the loose grasp of Bruce's feet. The burn of the fabric did something at least, but Clark realised he still needed more, and it was with a sickening lurch that he realised Bruce was being very quiet as he fucked his feet. “Bruce.” He panted.

  
  
Bruce wasn’t even looking at him, inspecting his nail beds. “What?”

  
“You.” Clark thrust harder, willing his cock to corporate. “Please.”

  
  
“I don't get it, why are you saying ‘please’?”

  
  
“Bruce, I need-”

  
  
“Do you need me to say something?” At Clark’s frantic nodding, Bruce opened his mouth. “How about ‘I love you’?” He grinned. “Is that good?”

  
  
Clark growled, his hips trying to thrust but losing the ability through the haze of everything. His movements became aborted and sloppy, trying and failing to find the sweet spot he needed. “Bruce, fuck, please!”

  
  
“Yes, Clark, my precious love?” Bruce crooned. “I love you _so_ much, I think you're _so_ perfect and sweet. Can we get married tomorrow, pretty please?”

  
  
“God, you _shit,_ fucking-” Clark growled, his hand going for Bruce’s feet, but before he even reach him, he heard it.

“The fuck did I just say? You cum like this or not at all you bag of shit.”

“Oh, fuck!” Clark thrust up and he was so startled by the sight of his own cum that he let out a confused grunt as he fell back against the headboard. He closed his eyes, trying to get his breathing back under control, and as he lay there he could feel Bruce fidgeting on the mattress in front of him.

He cracked open his eyes and looked to Bruce, and realised what he was feeling was laughter. Bruce was laughing. He was laughing so hard Clark was sure he’d fall back off the bed. “You should see your _face_ .” He yelled, as he pressed one foot firmly against Clark’s soft cock. “God, you are _fucked_ aren't you? I say I love you and your cock shriveled up into nothing but I call you a trash bag of shit and you fucking cream yourself.”

Clark let out a choked breath. “I’m sorry.”

  
“I should think so.” Bruce said, shaking his head. “What am I going to do with you?” 

“Can I…” Clark swallowed, reaching for Bruce. “Can I suck your cock? Please?”

Whether it was on purpose, something flickered in Bruce’s eyes and if Clark had to guess it was surprise. It was quickly gone as Bruce got up onto his knees and made his way forward towards Clark. “I suppose you can. After how nice I was to you, it seems only fair.”

  
  
“You were so good to me.” Clark said softly, bringing his hands up and holding them to Bruce's thighs guiding him closer to his mouth. “Thank you, Bruce. I love you so much.”

  
  
“Don't go sappy, trash bag. You're just a warm body to me.”

His cock twitched as he took Bruce's own into his mouth. He knew Bruce was trying to keep it together and he was doing a great job of it, until Clark brought a hand to his balls and tugged on the skin, pulling on them sharply. “ _Fuck._ ” Bruce ground out, and both his hands found Clark’s hair, taking thick wads of it in his hands and pulling on it. “Keep sucking, you _fuck_.”

Clark tried to nod, but the cock in his mouth meant it was little more than a half hearted bob. He instead hummed and felt Bruce thrust into him again as a result. It didn't take long before he felt Bruce cum, the feeling of it hitting his throat had Clark reeling. He tried to pull back but Bruce's hands were on his head holding him there. “Oh no no. You're staying there until _I_ say you can move.”

  
  
Clark wanted to object, but again, with a cock in his mouth, he was limited in what he could do. Instead he tried to swallow what he could, but with the intrusion he had limited success and found himself coughing. Eventually Bruce pulled back with a huff. “Useless.” He muttered. 

“I’m sorry, Bruce.” Clark said, looking up at him with half lidded eyes. “Please forgive me.”

“I don't know... I suppose I can forgive you if you do something else for me.” 

Clark didn't want to know what it was, yet he shivered in anticipation. “What do you want me to do?” 

  
Bruce looked behind himself and at the sight of Clark’s erection, he grinned. “Looks like you really enjoyed sucking my cock.” 

  
“I did.” Clark nodded sharply. “I’ll suck it as much as you want.”

“I don't want your gross lips on me anymore." Bruce said, shaking his head. “Instead, I want you to lay there and think about how much of a pig you are while I have a bath.”

Bruce got up from the bed, and made his way to the bathroom. Clark balked. “Bruce, can I-”

  
  
“You touch your cock even for a second, I will punish you in ways unimaginable to the common man. I’m going to have a nice _long_ bath and you are to lie there and not move an inch. Got it?” 

“But…” Clark looked down at himself.

  
“I'm sorry, does lying still seem difficult? I mean I did it no problem when your slimy cock was sliding against me so I figured you'd find it easy.”

  
  
Clark closed his eyes, letting out a breath. “I'll do it. I'll be still.”

  
“Good.” Bruce nodded once. “I'll be back out whenever.” He opened the door and went into the room without another word. 

\---

‘Whenever’ turned out to be approximately an hour.

It was approximately as after what Clark had to say was five minutes his ability to keep track of the passage of time was severely hampered.

It was hard. It was so hard. At points Clark wanted to get up and fling the bathroom door open as Bruce sat inside and bathed, but he didn't, for one simple fact. It was the same reason his perception of time devolved into a mindless slurry.

Bruce was on the phone. 

Clark knew he wasn’t actually talking to anyone. He was clearly faking it, and yet, hearing Bruce talk with this fictitious person did everything to keep Clark’s cock from wilting the entire hour he was left alone. It kept him rooted in his spot as Clark wanted nothing more than to keep hearing Bruce's voice.

“You should have seen him, M, he was pathetic, kept moaning for my feet of all things like a fucking pig. It was disgusting, I think I might just need to burn the socks. I'll never be able to wear them again.”

“I stomped on it, and the little thing wriggled under my foot like a worm. Fucker should have been grateful for me to even touch him, but oh no, he had the audacity to push me off.” 

Eventually the conversation stopped, and Clark was still where he was, so distracted by those words that he barely registered Bruce getting out of the bath.

“I have to say, I am a little impressed.” Bruce said as he opened the door, wiping his head with a towel. “Not super impressed or anything, but enough for me to acknowledge it, at least. You did not move.” 

He sauntered towards the bed, and as he stood before Clark, his head fell forward and Clark could scarcely believe it when he felt his eyes water. “I’m sorry, Bruce.”

  
  
“Why are you apologizing? You've done so much you need to apologize for I can't imagine what that ‘sorry’ is for.”

  
  
“I need you again, please Bruce. Can you please touch me again?”

  
  
“Oh.” Bruce said tilting his head. “You mean that _thing_.” He said as he waved his hand languidly towards Clark’s erection. “I suppose you did well and all. Not following your pig man instincts and disobeying me to come and fuck me in the bathroom.” Bruce went onto the bed, throwing his towel aside. “I bet that's what you wanted to do, just fling open the door and pull me from the water and slide you little cock into me.'' Bruce brought his hand forward and let the pad of his finger graze against the tip. “Pathetic, really.”

Clark tensed at the contact, and couldn't help but thrust into it. Bruce moved his hand away as though burned and glared at him. “God, don't _attack_ me with it. I don't want it on my skin, you pig.” 

“Please Bruce, anything, touch me with anything, I don't care.”

  
  
“Anything?” Bruce smirked. “Oh, Clark, don't say that, anything is _quite_ a wide spectrum.” 

“I mean it, I don't care. _Please_ , Bruce.”

Bruce let out a long breath. “Okay. You want anything? You got it.” He got up from the bed, and after throwing on his dressing gown, he left the room.

Clark knew he was in deep shit the minute the door closed. He probably should have amended his sentence with ‘ _any part of your body_ ’ but no, he had to say anything and when Bruce returned with a tray held in his hands Clark’s eyes were glued to it. “You ready?” He asked sweetly.

No. “Yes.” 

“Oh goody, because I brought a selection.” Bruce said as he set the tray down on the dresser. He took off his dressing gown, and once it was off he picked the tray up once more and walked back to the bed, setting the tray down on the mattress in full view of Clark.

Clark let out a strangled moan as he took in what was on the tray.

  
“You said anything, and I always wanted to see just what your pain tolerance is, so,” Bruce grinned. “Ta da.” 

Chilli. Ginger. Ice. 

“Bruce?”

“Yes, sweetums?”

“You-”

“Yes?”

  
  
“I-”

  
  
“Clark, if you don't start talking in sentences i'm going to have another bath.”

Clark swallowed. “It's nothing.”

  
  
“That's good.” Bruce said with a smile. “Because I took some time picking these out and it would really upset me if you tapped out before I even got to try them.”

  
  
Clark’s eyes never left the tray and when Bruce went for the chilli he clenched hard. Bruce lifted it by the skin and brought the exposed flesh to his own mouth. He poked his tongue out and barely touched the tip of it onto the fruit. He pulled back quickly, coughing. “Fuck, that burns.” In the same breath his eyes went to Clark. “Let’s see what it does to you.”

  
  
“Bruce, wait-”

  
  
But Bruce didn't wait, bringing the chilli to the base of Clark’s cock and holding it there. Clark took a breath, then another, waiting for it to hit, aware that any moment it was going to flood his senses. 

Three seconds. That was all it took, and when it hit, Clark screamed, his hands going into the mattress so hard he knew he punctured it. He didn't care, he had to get away from the feeling so he jolted back, but when he felt Bruce’s hand on his thigh, urging him to keep still he actually did, staying on the mattress as Bruce began to slide the fruit slowly along his length. “Shit, shit shit. Bruce! Fuck, no. _Stop_!”

  
  
“Clark, don't tell me you're already at your limit. I saw you get thrown into a building a week ago and you wiped the concrete from your hair like it was nothing. This should be a cakewalk for you.”

  
  
“This is different! Fuck, it _burns_ Bruce take it off!”

  
  
“If I take it off i’ll have to use something else. Tell me what.”

“The ice! Use the fucking ice!”

“The ice?” Bruce raised a brow. “You sure you want the ice?”

  
  
“Give it to me, you fucking-”

  
  
“Okay okay.” Bruce said as he pulled the chilli off and set it back on the tray. Clark could barely see through the sweat and tears obscuring his vision but he realised Bruce was pulling something onto his hand before he picked up the ice. 

A glove? “Bruce, why are you-”

  
  
“Shh, pig. I'm working.” He pulled the glove on and picked up the ice cube. He then brought it to the same spot that the chilli had once been resting.

Clark let out a sigh of relief at the cold, but that sigh quickly turned to a gasp as the ice began to burn too. “What, why-”

  
  
“Oh right, did you not know? Turns out, salt lowers the freezing point of ice. Covered the cube in it before I came up, so it's nice and _cold_ just for your sweaty cock.”

  
  
“Fuck-” Clark thrust up and the ice remained where it was, sticking to his skin. It was so cold it crossed back into heat and whatever relief it first gave was gone in place of an unbearable burning. He writhed and even though Bruce started to move the cube it did nothing to lessen the pain. “Bruce, _please_ , take it off!”

  
  
“Clark, you have three options. The chilli, the ice or the ginger. You’re cumming with one of these on you, so if you don't pick one now, i’ll just shove them all in your ass and leave you here.” 

  
“The ginger, the ginger! I pick the ginger!” 

“Okay, okay.” Bruce took the ice cube off and picked up the lump of ginger. “Honestly though, you should have picked this one before the ice as you have no idea how bad it is on tender flesh.”

  
“What?” 

  
He quickly got some idea as the ginger was pressed into the abused skin of his cock. It burned like the chilli but it didn't feel like fire, it was like a friction burn, warming the skin and causing it to be prickled with heat. It went deep into his core, flooding his body until he felt like his whole body was alight.

“Bruce, please.” It was too much, he could barely think. “Stop. I can’t. It hurts.”

  
  
“It hurts?” Bruce asked. “You can walk on the sun, but a bit of ginger on your cock and you're as weepy as a schoolgirl. God, you're pathetic.”

  
  
“I am. I am pathetic. I’m a piece of shit.” Clark let out, as more tears slid down his cheeks. “Please Bruce, I can’t cum. Not like this.”

  
  
“And yet, you are still hard as a rock.” Bruce said as he thankfully pulled the nub of ginger off and set it back on the tray. “I wonder what would happen if I put my mouth on your cock right now. Would my mouth feel hot or would it feel like an ice bath compared to what you just had on there?”

  
  
“Please, please. I want your mouth, Bruce.”

  
  
Bruce made a face. “When you _ask_ me to, it makes me _not_ want to.”

“I- '' Clark shuddered, his head falling forward as he looked down as his body, at the rivulets of sweat pooling across his skin. “Bruce, please.”

“Okay, okay, but only because you look so pathetic right now.”

Bruce looked at his cock for a moment, a grimace across his lips. Slowly, he lowered his head until his lips were resting atop his cock. Then, much as he had done with the chilli, he darted his tongue out, letting the tip touch his head.

Clark realised his mistake when he felt heat blossom there, but it was soon overtaken with the feeling of Bruce’s mouth slowly enveloping his cock. The heat was excruciating at first, but slowly the slickness of Bruce's mouth surpassed that feeling, and when he began to move, Clark knew it wouldn't be long.

His orgasm was ripped from him not even a moment later, and when it happened Clark felt hollow, as if he was nothing more than a shell. It was as though he were now so empty he was liable to float off into the sky at the faintest breeze. He fell to the side, with whatever was keeping in the first place apparently now gone. He pushed his face into the blanket and cherished the feeling of the cool fabric on his skin.

Bruce remained quiet for a moment, holding still by the foot of the bed. After a minute he began to move towards him. When he reached Clark’s head, he took it in his hands and eased it into his lap as he leaned back against the headboard. “Are you okay?” He whispered.

  
  
Clark tried to speak, but he was incapable, so he let out a hoarse groan that he hoped conveyed how he was. He didn't actually know himself, but he hoped Bruce would figure it out for him.

  
“That was very intense, so if you need some time to come down, that's fine. I can just talk.” Bruce wiped his hand across Clark’s face, swiping the sweaty locks back, and tucking them behind his ears. “I’ll just say things like about you, like how I think your cock is perfect and I love it very much.”

  
  
That caused a smile, and Clark burrowed his face into the warm skin of Bruce’s thighs. “What else?” 

  
  
“That I love you. That I thank the universe every day for letting me find you.” 

“Bruce…”

“I mean it.” He said softly, bending himself over and pressing a soft kiss on Clark’s temple. “You are wonderful, Clark. Thank you for today.”

Clark didn't know why but he felt his eyes water. “You mean it?”

  
  
“Of course.” Bruce murmured. “You know, when we first go together I was so happy I could be myself with you, I didn't need to hide what I liked in bed for fear you’ll reject me, and I hope that today has shown you you can do the same to me. I won’t judge you. Ever.”

“Thank you, Bruce.” He whispered. “I love you.”  
  


Bruce kissed him once more before getting up from the bed. “I’m going to get a flannel and wipe you down, just lay there, okay? I’ll be right back.”

After Bruce had wiped him down and applied some aloe to his still tender cock, they lay in bed, watching a movie that Clark could barely pay attention to. His attention was instead on Bruce, on his face as he watched the screen, on hands as they absently trailed patterns into Clark’s back.

And Clark had to admit as he tucked in close, in that moment and it many more, he was thankful to the universe, too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta da! I hope you all enjoyed. As you can probably tell, Bruce and Clark's dynamic has flipped in this fic, but that's because for me personally I see them as switches through and through. It's situational, and depending on how either are feeling.
> 
> Honestly writing Bruce in this was a lot of fun (my favourite line being 'You like them? They’re the cheapest shittiest thing I own. Well, aside from you of course.' Like, as I wrote it I was like 'damn, Bruce... fucking brutal.' XD XD
> 
> And I know I only somewhat went into it at the end, but Clark is aware everything Bruce said was for the sake of the session and that he doesn't really mean any of it. 
> 
> Anyway! As always, let me know what you thought. Until next time! ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, there was chapter one! Chapter two will be the real meat of this story, but I hope this chapter sets the tone off whats to come.
> 
> As I have said before, this series contains my version of Clark and Bruce and in this world they are kinky lil gremlins and so may be OOC for some people, but I hope you enjoy it regardless. 
> 
> Anyway, as usual, let me know what y'all thought, and i'll catch you all in the next chapter B)


End file.
